HOUSTON — On a cold, overcast day here Friday, nine families came together in a hushed hotel ballroom to receive one of the nation's most prestigious civilian honors.
Executives in dark blue suits shifted uncomfortably as an Army major general in battle fatigues awarded posthumous Defense of Freedom medals to the families' loved ones, all contractors killed while working in Iraq.
But this was no public recognition of sacrifice. The event was held in secret, with guards to keep out the media. The Army even refused to release the names of those it was honoring. The nation's gratitude was delivered behind closed doors.
A thousand miles to the north, a day later, a group of contractors got together on their own dime in a gritty cinder-block VFW hall beside a freeway in Knoxville, Tenn.
This time, there were neither medals nor executives. Instead, there were sudsy beers, loud music and the camaraderie of men and women who swapped war stories of public indifference, bureaucratic ineptitude and corporate incompetence.
"This is what we've got. This is our party," said Jana Crowder, the wife of a contractor. She organized the conference, which drew a few dozen people, from as far as South Dakota and Maine.
The contrasting events signal the issues that surround a new and largely invisible kind of pseudo-veteran: the thousands of contractors who have been injured, some fatally, working in Iraq for the U.S. government.
Nearly 125,000 contractors are now at work in Iraq supporting roughly 135,000 troops, according to the most recent military figures. The ratio is far higher than for any previous U.S. conflict, military analysts say.
More than 750 contractors have been killed in Iraq, according to Department of Labor statistics, and almost 8,000 injured. The figures include Americans, Iraqis and other nationalities employed under U.S. government contracts.
Contractors' surviving relatives and wounded contractors have many of the same problems as military members and their families, including searing grief, difficult recoveries and unanswered questions.
But the contractors' status as private employees on a public mission has created an uncertain future, where surviving a bullet in the head does not mean a lifetime of care and where a local bar becomes the closest thing to a veteran's hospital.
